Sometimes I want to be bold. I want to sing all of my favorite songs to the top of my lungs in public, but I fear being seen as strange. I want to wear purple, pink, green, and leopard print simultaneously, with obnoxiously huge white sunglasses most days of the week. But again, the fear thing.. It hits me. I dream of painting my living room cerulean blue, which is one of my favorite hues, but I imagine my husband will detest the choice of shade and question my lack of experience with interior design. So there goes another brilliant idea. Just the other day I concocted an interesting recipe of my favorite food items. You know, the usual. Salmon, spinach, parmesan cheese, chili powder, garlic.. Yes, loads of garlic. Wait, maybe I should discard the high dose of garlic. But mid-way through preparation, I realized I would be the only one to enjoy it. Who would really want to eat it besides me? I thought it over and decided to save my groceries.
I grew tired of my hair and made plans to cut it again. I'd even picked out a shockingly rude shade of red to dye it and everything. I felt liberated by the thought of not having to fuss over it so much daily. I grew excited knowing that I would have more time for makeup application if I just did away with the hair. But then the practical side of me just knew co-workers and classmates would not appreciate such loud hair. They would never understand the struggle I go through dealing with our society's standards of beauty. So I played it safe, got a full Remy install, and promised myself I'd do a short red weave on my hair at a later date.
I fell in love with a cute red bandage dress when I was out shopping the other day. I looked in the mirror and loved the way it hugged my curves. Before I decided to purchase it, I stepped out of the single fitting room and into the full length mirrors in the center of the fitting section. The stares of horror from the other women made me feel like I made the wrong decision. So I put it back on the rack, shamefully.
On my best day, I am that lady who will tell you I don't care what anyone thinks of me. I make my own rules, set my own trends, and sing and dance to whatever the heck I want. But sometimes, just sometimes, I'm attacked by my insecurities. I hope that my personal best aligns with my parents' ideas of what my personal best may be. I hope that the things I do for my friends are to their liking. I hope that my husband is truly satisfied with our marriage. I pray that I am being the best mommy I can be for my children. It does hurt my feelings when people don't like me "just because". I do get offended when people say I'm too sensitive. But that's just who I am.
Do any of you feel just like this sometimes?
from the archives: October 2011
